


Not Just No

by Dragonflies_and_Katydids



Series: Krem Story Time [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caretaking, F/M, Family, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 03:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/pseuds/Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bull is the worst patient <em>ever</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Just No

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "taking care of someone while sick." I figured injured was close enough! This was actually the second prompt, but life interfered and I only just got the chance to finish it.
> 
> This is a sequel to [this story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5291204/chapters/12246080) that I wrote for the last prompt thing I did on Tumblr, in which Bull is literally Krem's father. So apparently I wasn't done with prompt #1 yet, either.

As he finishes the last of the paperwork to get Bull discharged from the hospital, Krem can't stop the parade of fears marching endlessly through his head. They make it hard to concentrate on what he's doing, and more than once he has to go back and correct something. Cullen isn't quite hovering, but he is a little too close for comfort, and that definitely isn't helping.

At least he didn't try to argue when Krem took the paperwork; as Bull's legal next-of-kin, Krem is the one who should be doing it, but he more than half expected Cullen to swoop in and take it. Hovering is better than swooping, at least, and there were a couple questions Cullen knew how to answer while Krem was still scratching his head. It annoys him no end that Cullen knows this stuff and he doesn't, as if the medical profession is rubbing his nose in the fact that his father's new boyfriend knows things about his father that he doesn't.

Okay, well, maybe a year and a half doesn't exactly count as "new", but still. It's not twenty years, not by a long shot, and Krem has to constantly bite his tongue on the urge to remind Cullen of that fact.

He gets to the bottom of the stack of paperwork before he loses his temper, and Cullen steps out of his space as soon as that's done. Krem rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath, trying to relax. Without the distraction of the paperwork, however, the parade of fears can move to the front of his brain, and he finds himself wishing for a few more incomprehensible forms to fill out.

What if Bull relapses? Krem still shudders when he thinks about that collapsed lung, on the second morning here. What if that happens again, at home, where there isn't an entire hospital's worth of medical staff available at a moment's notice? Or what if Bull picked up some antibiotic-resistant strain of something while he was here? What if the painkillers don't work? What if Cullen's makeshift wheelchair ramp collapses?

The fears get more and more improbable, without getting any less frightening. Which really isn't fair. If it's possible to see how ludicrous some of them are, then they shouldn't still be able to scare him.

Logic, unfortunately, doesn't seem to have much of an impact.

###

By the end of Bull's second day home, Krem realizes he was worried about all the wrong things. The wheelchair ramp holds up just fine, the painkillers do their job, and Bull appears to be MRSA-free.

A relapse, on the other hand, appears a distinct possibility, because Bull treats the doctor's instructions like suggestions, and suggestions he doesn't like. He refuses to take the painkillers or use the wheelchair, and he hobbles all over the house if they leave him alone for a second.

"The doctor said I shouldn't stay in bed all day," Bull protests, the third time Krem catches him in the kitchen.

Krem doesn't even bother to answer, just continues to point back toward the bedroom until Bull gives a long-suffering sigh and goes back to bed.

Once Krem has dinner in the oven--he might as well finish the meal Bull started making--he leans against the kitchen counter and calls Lace.

"Hey," she says cautiously. "How's he doing?"

"I'm gonna kill him," Krem says. "I swear to god, if he gets out of that goddamn bed one more time, I'm gonna save us all the waiting and fucking kill him."

She laughs. "Well, he's supposed to be getting some exercise, right?"

"Don't you start," he growls.

"Sorry," she says hastily, and Krem grimaces.

"No, sorry, forget I said that."

"He's been using that line on you, huh?"

"Yeah. Like walking around for two hours is what the doctor meant."

"Two _hours_?"

"I was studying," Krem says defensively. "And he's a sneaky bastard when he wants to be."

There's a pause on the other end, like she's thinking hard about her next words, then she asks, "Where's Cullen?"

Krem forces himself not to tense. "He's asleep. It's my shift."

"So...he's taking care of your dad?"

Behind that question is a bigger one, and Krem hears it loud and clear. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, he's doing okay at this."

"Just okay?" she presses.

Krem snorts. "I'm only doing okay at this. Fucking hell, it's like the asshole is trying to piss us off. I'm not kidding: if he doesn't kill himself, Cullen's going to do it for him, and I'm not going to stop him."

She laughs again, a little nervously. "But he's not...I mean...he's okay? Cullen. He's doing...stuff? Whatever needs doing?"

"Yeah, Cullen's doing stuff," Krem says, almost amused. "At least, he's doing whatever Dad will let us do."

He knows what Lace is trying to ask, but he doesn't really have an answer for her. Cullen's not exactly warm or demonstrative, and the few times Krem has seen him actually touch Bull, it's been totally impersonal. Which reminds Krem a little too much of the Bitch From Hell, who strung Bull along for years, until she'd wrung everything she could out of him. When Krem first met Cullen, he'd been furious, sure Bull had managed to find another user who didn't give a shit about him. Because if Cullen cares, Krem hasn't seen any sign of it.

Or at least, he hadn't until he'd walked into that hospital room and seen Cullen fall apart, however briefly. As horribly uncomfortable as it had been, watching a forty-year-old cry like that, part of Krem is glad for it. Now if there was some evidence that wasn't just a weird reaction to too little sleep.

"Can we talk about something else?" he says at last, and Lace is happy to oblige. It's one of the things he likes best about her, that she doesn't feel like she needs to try to be his therapist or some shit.

He's feeling better when he gets off the phone, and less like he might choke his father if he has to be in the same room, so he wanders down the hall after he checks on dinner. The door to the office is closed, Cullen presumably still crashed out on the cot he insisted on taking so that Krem could have the guest room. Bull, of course, is taking up all of the bed in the master bedroom.

Or at least, he's _supposed_ to be, and why is Krem surprised that he's not?

"What the fuck?" Krem says, louder than he meant, when he opens the bedroom door.

Bull, half bent over, jumps in surprise and loses his balance, stumbling into the dresser and knocking over the lamp with a crash.

"Just doing some stretches," Bull starts, then the door to the office bangs open and heavy feet run down the hall toward them.

Two steps into the room, not sure himself if he's going to help Bull or smack him, Krem glances back just as Cullen appears in the doorway. Krem looks away again just as quickly, because okay, that was a little more of Cullen than he needed to see. Not that he's a bad looking guy, but Krem really didn't want an eyeful of his dad's boyfriend wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and some serious bedhead.

"What the fuck?" Cullen demands, and Krem can't hold back a snort of surprised laughter at the unconscious echo.

"I was just doing some stretches," Bull says with as much dignity as he can muster. Given that he's still bent over, one arm curled around his ribs and the other hand braced on the dresser, that isn't much.

"If you tear out your fucking stitches," Cullen says, with a cold fierceness Krem has never heard from him, "I will force feed you that fucking Percocet and tie you to the fucking bed for the next month. Are we clear?"

Bull looks abashed for the first time since they came home, possibly for the first time ever. "Uh, yeah."

"Good," Cullen says, and for a second, Krem can see how tired he is. Then Cullen shakes it off and advances on Bull with a purposeful stride that has Krem stepping back out of the way before he consciously tells his feet anything.

Cullen gets his shoulder under Bull's arm and begins steering him back to the bed, his expression promising pain to anyone who gets in his way. Krem feels like he's taking his life in his hands, but he moves around Bull to get the other side, and Cullen gives him a strained smile in thanks.

It takes a little while to get Bull situated in the bed, a while made longer by Bull's occasional attempts to negotiate. Attempts Cullen ignores, or answers with a look that says "are you fucking kidding me" so clearly Krem would swear he said it out loud.

The oven timer goes off just as Krem is wondering how much trouble he'd get in for smacking his father in the back of the head.

"Dinner almost ready?" Cullen asks, looking toward the door.

"Uh, yeah," Krem says.

The corner of Cullen's mouth curls as if at some joke, but the expression turns back into a frown when Bull says, "I could eat at the table to-"

 _"No!"_ Krem and Cullen say in unison.

Bull hunches his shoulder defensively. "Okay, okay. Christ." Then he mutters, "This bedroom is boring as shit."

Over Bull's head, Cullen meets Krem's eyes, and they share a moment of perfect--if exasperated--understanding. "I'll bring you some books," Cullen says.

Krem wouldn't argue with that tone of voice, and somehow, he doesn't think Bull will either.

**Author's Note:**

> C'mon, Bull would totally be a "do as a say, not as I do" kind of patient.


End file.
